


Fair Enough

by TinCanTelephone



Series: From Tumblr, With <3 [29]
Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Depression, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Illnesses, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Jealousy, Major Character Injury, Pre-Relationship, happy-ish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2019-10-13 19:14:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17493671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TinCanTelephone/pseuds/TinCanTelephone
Summary: After a mission gone sideways, Cassian is forced to face the reality that he may never again be the man he was before Scarif.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [marcasite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/marcasite/gifts).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For @leaiorganas on tumblr: “Just tell me something, was it really worth it?”
> 
> Then I was inspired by @hoofgirl's amazing Cassian Andor prompt-a-thon fill, "[Soaked](https://archiveofourown.org/chapters/39996384)," so this is a direct sequel to that. I don't think it's necessary to read that first, but you totally should, because it's awesome :)

Even though Jyn flipped over his mattress so he could sleep on the dry side and switched out his damp pillow with a fresh one, Cassian still woke up with a sore throat and stuffed nose. 

And he groaned because if he ended up sick anyway, then what was the point of last night at all? He braced himself and sat up, pushing through the pain that lanced through his hip and back. He managed to shuffle across his cabin to the wardrobe, but even that much movement had him gasping and clutching the wall for support. 

A glance at the chrono told him they’d be landing in a few hours, and while at this rate he had no chance of avoiding the medbay, he’d be damned if he couldn’t at least walk off the ship under his own power. So he forced himself to dress, although by the end the pain was so bad he was dizzy with it, his head was throbbing in time with his back, and he was left staring down at his boots without any hope of tying them. 

There was a horribly familiar soft knock on his door, and Jyn’s voice floated through the durasteel. “Cassian? Are you awake?”

“Yes.” _Kriff_. He cleared his throat, hoped she couldn’t hear the congestion in his voice. “What is it?”

“Nothing, I just wanted…” She paused. “I wanted to ask if you needed help with anything”

His face flushed with the memory of the previous night, and everything she insisted on doing because he couldn’t. He swallowed, winced, and opened his mouth to say, _No, I don’t need anything_ , but then he looked down again at his bootlaces and the lie stuck in his throat. 

Fuck, he used to be so _good_ at this, he’d be dead countless times over if he wasn’t. Lying used to feel as natural as breathing, but ever since Eadu it became harder and harder, especially to the people he cared about the most. 

“Cassian?”

He’d been quiet for too long. 

“Can I… can I come in?”

She shouldn’t have to see him like this, and most of him really didn’t want to be seen. But… he realized with a pang that the rest of him really wanted to see _her_. So selfishly, he said, “Yes.”

The door eased open and she slipped inside. Her face fell as soon as she saw him. “You got dressed?”

“Yes.” Why wouldn’t he?

“Stars, Cassian.” She shook her head and knelt by his feet.

He watched her, thinking she was going to tie his laces, but instead she pulled off his boots and set them aside, before he could protest or try again to insist he was fine. He ignored the sting in his chest when he realized she didn’t even ask.

“Please lie back down,” she said. “We’ll be landing soon and you can see a medic. You aren’t helping anything by moving.”

“We’ll be landing soon?” He kept his voice low, hoping she wouldn’t notice the roughness, and tried desperately to keep his nose from twitching as it threatened to run all over his upper lip. They must be ahead of schedule. 

“Yes, Bodhi found a shortcut,” she said, fiddling with his pillow, brushing off imaginary dust. “I told him you needed a medic.”

He wanted to tell her she shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t necessary, he didn’t deserve such sacrifices. 

She held out her hands to help him lie down again, and he accepted, too tired and in too much pain to resist. It solved the immediate problem of his runny nose, but backfired when all the phlegm ran down his throat, triggering a coughing fit that made his eyes water. 

When it was over, she cursed and pulled the blankets out from under him and tucked them around his shoulders. 

“I’m going to kill them,” she said. “Whoever karked up that cover has got hell to answer for.” She put a hand on his forehead and leaned closer, checking for signs of a fever. 

“It’s just a cold,” he muttered. 

“For now.” She began rummaging through his bags for a medpack. “Do you need painkillers? I don’t think this thing has decongestants…”

“Jyn, I’m fine.” 

She held out a few tablets and a canteen. “Just take these, for the pain.” She helped him drink, then checked his temperature again before standing up to leave. “Just rest, okay?” 

And maybe it was because he really felt like bantha shit, or maybe it was just the softness in her voice, but he closed his eyes and tried to listen to her. 

 

* * *

 

He woke up as they landed and desperately tried to walk off the ship himself, but Jyn stopped him before he reached the gangplank. 

“I told them to bring a hover-stretcher.” 

“What? Jyn–”

She crossed her arms. “It’s too late. Besides, you can barely walk.”

He sighed and leaned against the bulkhead. “I can make it that far.” 

“But you don’t have to.” She blew her bangs out of her face. “Do you have something to prove by walking off this ship yourself? Is this a point of pride for you?”

He flinched and pressed his lips together, unable to deny it but too ashamed to admit she was right. So he got on the hover-stretcher without a word, and stared resolutely at the ceiling as he was taken to the medbay. He tried not to think about all sentients who must’ve seen, and whispered about what had become of him. He had a reputation to maintain, after all. That he didn’t care what they thought. 

 

On his stomach on the examination table, Kalonia clucked as she felt around his implants. 

“Out of alignment, all of them,” she said. “I’m surprised you could walk at all by the end.” She brushed a hand over his lower back and left hip. “And because you kept moving, all these muscles are badly strained.” 

Cassian couldn’t see, but he heard Jyn shuffle from behind him. She didn’t say anything, but he could almost hear her scolding him– for not listening, for moving so much when he was back on the ship, even though they both knew the damage was probably already done by then. 

Kalonia continued, “The scans didn’t show any damage to the pieces themselves, so they can probably be fixed without surgery.”

Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. 

“But as for the muscle damage, I’m afraid you’ll be on your back for at least a week, possibly more.” 

_No. No, no no._ Fuck, he hated bedrest. More than any other treatment it made him feel weak, useless, out of control of his own life. 

“And after that, another course of physical therapy to try and rebuild some strength.” She came around to his front, looking carefully at him. “Of course, these are all recommendations you are free to ignore.” 

He didn’t miss Jyn’s snort at that. 

“That said, they are very _strong_ recommendations and failure to follow them will almost certainly result in pain that is more frequent and more severe. Do you understand?”

He swallowed, the pain in his throat mixing with the pain in his head and back. “I understand.”

“Good.” She nodded and took out a syringe. “This should take the edge off while I reset the implants. Then we’ll get you a bed and some medicine for the cold.” 

 

Within ten minutes, Cassian determined this was going to be one of his worse stints in the medbay. He refused a second round of pain medication after Kalonia’s procedure, and regretted it immediately as the first dose wore off and his entire lower back became a throbbing center of pain. And there was also his cold, which was shaping up to be absolutely horrible. Already, lying on his back made all the mucus from his sinuses run down this throat, and it took too much effort to cough up all the shit building up in his lungs. 

Eventually, Kalonia allowed his head and shoulders to be propped up slightly, but he was still miserable. He started writing his mission report to Draven, but the pressure behind his eyes made it hurt to look at the datapad and he had to put it down every few minutes. He began dozing off in between bursts of work, exhausted from the pain and discomfort with little else to distract him. Jyn and Bodhi were who-knows-where, hopefully getting some food or rest of their own, regardless something infinitely more useful than visiting his sorry ass in the medbay. 

Fuck, when did he develop this much self-pity? 

He tapped out the last couple sentences and submitted it after only a cursory proofread, then tossed the datapad aside and turned off the light. 

 

* * *

 

The morning brought nothing new, just medbay rations he couldn’t taste and the news that he could start physical therapy in two weeks. Again.

He picked at his food and wallowed for most of the morning, then broke down and agreed to more pain medication because every time he coughed it pulled at his back. It made him feel hazy and unfocused, but he almost welcomed the feeling, preferable to lying there fully alert and aware of how pathetic it all was.

Then Draven arrived. 

Through force of habit, Cassian tried to sit up to greet him, then had to grit his teeth as fire lanced down his spine. 

“At ease,” Draven said. 

Cassian fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“I received your report, Captain.”

“That’s good, sir.” He swallowed a cough. Fuck, it was bad enough he was injured and bedridden, why did he have to be sick, too? 

“Although I have yet to read it.” 

“That’s fine.” There was nothing particularly urgent or groundbreaking in it. 

“There was an… incident I had to take care of.”

_Oh no._

“Your sergeant verbally assaulted multiple members of my research team. I’ve had to handle two complaints about her.” 

Oh, Force. 

“And the three counter-complaints she filed in return.”

_Jyn…_ He wasn’t sure whether to be flattered or angry. 

“I would thank you to maintain greater control over your team,” Draven said. Then he sighed. “Although I suspect in this case that would be a waste of energy.”

He was probably right. Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but started coughing instead. 

Draven didn’t acknowledge it. “I’ve also perused Harter’s assessment of your condition.” He paused, as if considering his next words carefully. 

Cassian tried not to hold his breath. 

“And after some discussion, we have decided to revoke your clearance for field missions. Permanently.” 

Were he able, Cassian would have stood up in protest. He would have said something, anything, to convince them this was a fluke, and they weren’t wrong about clearing him last time. He was _needed_ out there. No one else could do what he could. He would’ve insisted that _permanently_ was unfair, he just needed more time. 

But he couldn’t, pinned to the bed and proving Draven’s point. He felt hollow, gutted, just like he had right after Scarif except this time was worse, because he knew Draven was right. He didn’t want to admit it, but he knew. His implants came out of alignment after _running on uneven ground_. If that was all it took to cripple him, putting him in the field would only endanger himself and everyone around him. 

But who was he without that? Without his work? It felt like the floor been pulled from beneath him, one moment he was on solid ground, and the next he was falling, without any idea where he would land and how much it would hurt. 

Draven cleared his throat. “I’ll leave you to rest. We can discuss your future in intelligence once you recover.” 

Cassian didn’t say anything, and didn’t watch Draven leave.

 

He fell asleep soon after that, because it was the easiest thing to do when he was stuck in bed, even if he weren’t already lethargic from the medicine and the cold. But it wasn’t restful– his mind was still spinning with Draven’s news, and he seemed to wake up every few hours anxious all over again that his purpose in the Rebellion had been taken away.

So he was barely dozing when he heard the faint sound of the keypad outside, opening his eyes just before the door swished open. 

His heart leapt when he saw it was Jyn, and he hoped he could pull off, _I’ve been awake for some time_. 

She still winced when she saw him. “Sorry if I woke you.” 

“You didn’t.” His voice was a rough whisper and he didn’t have the energy to put more force behind it. 

She dithered near the door until he gestured weakly to one of the plastene chairs next to his bed. What was the point of decorum now? 

“I should’ve come by sooner,” she said. 

“It’s all right.” _You don’t owe me anything._ He shivered. The room felt colder than it did when Draven was here. 

“It’s not.” She shook her head. “I was angry. I tried… I’m sure Draven already told you.”

“Something like that.” His nose was running. He tried to sniffle and coughed. “It’s all right, I understand.”

“They didn’t give it to me,” she said. 

Clearance to examine his undercover profiles. Of course not.

She glared at his doubtful expression. “But I _will_ get it. I’ll start slicing and dicing if I have to.”

“You don’t.” There wouldn’t be any more undercover profiles. She must not have found out. But somehow, he couldn’t find the words to tell her. Maybe he wasn’t ready for her to know.

“I _do_.” She sighed and put her head in her hands. “It’s just not fair. It wasn’t your fault.”

“It’s fine.” 

“No, it isn’t!” She leaned further forward, fingers curling around the back of her neck. “None of this is your fault.” 

He swallowed. “Neither is it yours.” 

She looked up, and he wondered if she’d been crying. “Isn’t it, though?” she whispered. “You didn’t have to follow me to Scarif.” 

In a different context, he might’ve laughed. “Do you wish I hadn’t?” 

“ _No_ , I–” She sighed. “No. I just wish… you didn’t have to pay for my choices.” 

“Hey.” His voice was getting worse, barely above a rasp. He reached out, meaning to touch her hand, but her head was still bowed and his fingers brushed her cheek. More than everything already hurt, his chest ached at the thought that she blamed herself for his injuries. 

Her head jerked up and his hand fell back to the bed. 

“Sorry,” he murmured, curling his fingers into his palm. Her face, what he felt of it, was so warm. “They… they were my choices, too.” 

“I know.” She nodded and wiped her eyes. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m all right.” 

“Are you in any pain?” 

“No.” It wasn’t as bad as before.

“Liar.” 

He shivered. 

“You’re cold.” She slid off the chair and knelt by his bed. “I think they usually keep extra blankets somewhere under here.” She pulled out a box containing two heavy blankets and shook them out. “They should really keep this room warmer.” 

She tossed the blankets over him, and they settled with a comforting weight. 

“Does that feel better?” she said.

“Yes.” He found himself drifting off again, which didn’t make any sense because he just woke up. It really was cold in here.

He felt her hand on his face and turned into it before he could think about it. 

She made a small noise in the back of her throat and he began to pull away, but she held him there, fingers curling around his chin. “Oh, Cassian.” Her other hand brushed over her forehead. “I think you have a fever.” 

Of course.  

“I’ll go get Kalonia,” she said. “Don’t worry, you’ll feel better soon.” 

 

_Soon_ was a relative term, Cassian thought two days later. He’d been diagnosed with a chest infection– nothing to worry about (according to Kalonia), but it made everything ten times worse. 

The congestion and pressure behind his cheekbones was so bad he was allowed to prop up his bed at a slightly higher angle, even though Kalonia warned him it would be bad for his back. 

“What does it matter?” he croaked in between coughs. “If I’m never going into the field again, who cares if my back hurts?”

Kalonia huffed, unamused as she checked his temperature and listened to his lungs. “ _You_ should,” she said. “If you were being at all mature about this.”

He grunted. 

“You’re already setting yourself up for a lifetime of chronic back pain,” she said. “You would do well not to make it worse.”

Cassian was pretty sure _nothing_ could be worse than this. He choked out another round of coughs and raised the bed a little more. 

“That’s quite enough.” Kalonia put her hand on the control panel. 

“But I can’t _breathe_.” It came out as a scrape past his ruined throat.

She didn’t relent. “Be patient, let the medicine work.”

He groaned and started coughing again, hands pressed to his temples as if that would stop the pounding of his head. 

Even with his respiratory system trying to kill him, he had always been better at holding it together. But Jyn hadn’t visited since he developed a fever, and he was losing his mind wondering why. She said she’d start slicing and dicing. Who knew what she found. Who knew what she thought of him now. 

His only (theoretical) escape from the anxiety was that it shouldn’t even bother him, whatever it was. He couldn’t control it, and it shouldn’t matter to him what she thought. She had her own life, her own duties. And he shouldn’t expect to come first on her list of duties and priorities, and shouldn’t bother her with pleas to visit. 

He needed to let it go. He needed to not _miss_ her. 

Kalonia sighed. “All right, what’s really going on here?”

“Nothing.” Old habits died hard. 

She crossed her arms. “Would you like me to just go get her? So you can just talk to her and save everyone a lot of grief?” 

Kriff, it was worse than he thought. Or maybe Harter was just that good at reading him. “Yes.” 

“Good, because I already have.” 

Of course. 

“She’ll be here in a few hours.” 

He couldn’t tell whether the feeling in his stomach was excitement or dread. 

 

Whatever it was, he tried to stay awake until she got there. But he was always tired lately, whether it was from the medicine or the illness or the pain, and woke up to the sound of the door and her shadow in the hallway. 

She entered, slowly, warily, and it made his heart ache. She hated him. She hated him and she didn’t want to be here. Kalonia shouldn’t have sent for her. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. _I’m sorry I’m not who you thought I was. I’m sorry you had to find out this way_.

She glared, and he braced himself for anger, but then it disappeared her face became sad. “Please don’t apologize.” 

“I’m sorry.” He couldn’t help it. 

“I’m serious.” She stepped forward, shoulders hunched in on themselves so in the dark she looked even smaller than she was. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

_But I_ do _. Why can’t you see that?_ It was so difficult to grasp, how differently she saw him from how he saw himself. 

She sat carefully in the chair next to his bed, hands pressed together and pinched between her knees. “I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Why?” It hurt to talk, and he was so tired, but he couldn’t let it go. 

“I… I sliced into your file,” she said. Her hair was falling over her face. He wanted to brush it back. “And I saw they took away your field clearance.”

Oh. That.

“I was trying to find your mission details, I didn’t–” She paused. “I didn’t mean to see it.”

“It’s okay.”

Her breath hitched and she swiped a hand across her face. 

Force, she was crying. He swallowed, and realized how much he hated to see her like this. And how he would commit no small number of sins to help her feel better. 

“It’s not,” she said. “I’m just so sorry for all of it. Everything.” 

Sorry for what? He didn’t understand what she was saying. He cleared his throat. “It’s okay if you see my file,” he said. He wouldn’t keep any secrets from her. He couldn’t

She shook her head. “Cassian, you lost so much because of me. And I… I can never make that up to you.” 

His lips parted, and he stared at her in stunned silence. She didn’t owe him for that. He would do it again without hesitating. “They were my choices–”

She stopped him. “I know, but just– just tell me something.” She finally looked up, and even in the darkness he could see the green reflected in her shiny eyes. “Was it really worth it? Everything you had to give up?”

“Yes.” He didn’t even have to think about it. The injuries, the pain, the field clearance– of course it was worth it, to go with her to Scarif, to save her life. Because it meant she was still here with him. And he was a selfish creature at heart, and he’d do quite a bit to keep her that way. 

“You really mean that?” 

She looked so sad, and so raw, he wanted to embrace her. Or pull her onto the bed next to him and hold her close, so he could try to show her how he felt. 

But the bed was too small and it still hurt to move that much, so he just stretched out a hand. He couldn’t quite reach from where he was, but she seemed to understand and put her hand in his, and he squeezed with a strength that surprised even him. 

“I do.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/post/182001136305/ok-i-swear-i-wont-keep-coming-back-but-i-just)


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For anonymous on tumblr: misunderstandings or jealousy
> 
> I had a lot of requests for a follow-up to chapter 1, written for a different prompt, so I decided to make the prompt work with that. I was also inspired by [this piece of fanart](http://kelsuhart.tumblr.com/post/155006408792/the-history-books-forgot-about-us-and-the-bible) by @kelsuhart on tumblr
> 
>  
> 
> _content warning for depression, thoughts of self-harm_

Even though he told Jyn over and over again she didn’t have to make it up to him, that she didn’t owe him anything for the loss of his field clearance, she seemed determined to try. When he was finally allowed back in his own quarters, he found three new thick blankets folded at the foot of his bed and a humidifier in the corner releasing puffs of steam into the air every thirty seconds. 

“Where did you get that?” he said as she closed the door behind them, taking his cane from his hand and beginning to pull the jacket off his shoulders. 

“It’s to help your breathing at night,” she said, which pointedly did not answer his question. 

“My breathing’s fine,” he said, although he allowed her to put away his coat and pull the covers back from the bed. He sat down, mostly to humor her. It was too early to go to bed now. 

“And this will make sure it stays that way.” She knelt by the little machine and fiddled with the settings. 

Cassian considered having Kay return it from wherever she got it as soon as she left, but quickly gave up on that line of thought, because as sure as Hoth was cold Jyn would just steal it back. 

She puttered around his quarters for a while, touching and straightening random things, seemingly reluctant to leave, until she ran out of things to adjust and just hovered awkwardly by the door. 

“So. I’m shipping out tomorrow.” She sounded almost defensive about it, like she expected him to resent her. 

“With whom?” And he didn’t. He liked to think he was above that sort of thing, and above the unproductive worry about her safety. Jyn could take care of herself, and if not, many other sentients could protect her as well or better than he could. 

“The pathfinders need some extra hands.” She fiddled with the strap of her belt. “It won’t take long.”

“I hope it goes well,” he said, trying to convince himself it didn’t matter how long she’d be gone, it wasn’t his business. 

“I’ll be back soon, I promise,” she said. 

“It’s okay.” He paused, and after some hesitation added, “I’ll be fine.” 

Her brows lowered. “I know you will.” 

“Be safe.”

She actually looked up at him at that, and her hand dropped from her waist. “I will.”

He dipped his chin in a nod. She nodded back, then turned and left. He tried not to wince at the sound of the door closing behind her. 

 

He didn’t expect it to be as bad as it was, not knowing precisely where she was, how she was doing, if she was okay. He’d never considered the possibility that he wouldn’t. 

Directly after Scarif, she’d refused to go off planet until he was cleared for duty, and he could imagine for a few weeks that they would never be on missions apart. It meant he never had to consider the alternative. Now, he found that it was almost worse, because he had nothing to focus on besides the gaping hole he felt when he was here but she was not. 

He found himself using the humidifier every night, just like she would want, and rose every morning at the same time for breakfast because he knew she’d tell him to eat. 

But beyond that, he found it difficult to do more than go through the motions. It all seemed pointless, somehow. Not that he was accustomed to working for immediate returns, but there was a different sort of futility as the days dragged on, and he woke up at the same time, walked the same path to the mess, then the same path to his workspace.

And the reports were always the same– sentients suffering and dying in every quadrant, Imperial fat cats sipping Alderaanian wine in their towers on Coruscant. It made Cassian want to break his datapad over his knees and drag the shards of glass across his palms until it hurt and he felt something, anything to snap him out of this horrible numbness he felt creeping over him. 

But he was still, and dismissed the idea as soon as it occurred to him. Who knew if it would even work? He felt pain all the time– every week at physical therapy, usually the slow, throbbing ache from deep in his muscles, but sometimes a sharp, stabbing cramp when he moved too suddenly or in the wrong way. 

And he still felt numb. 

 

* * *

 

He was waiting in the hangar when the pathfinders returned, and as soon as Jyn saw him she jogged across the hangar to meet him. 

He smiled, and wondered how it came out through the pang of jealousy he felt as he watched her move with such ease, stepping lightly around sentients and dodging packs and toolboxes strewn on the ground. 

She stopped short just within arm’s reach, as if wary of getting too close, but looked him carefully up and down. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” The words felt brittle in his mouth, and he could taste the bitterness in them. He’d been safe on base this entire time, while she’d been out in the field. It was her health they should be concerned about. 

“That’s good.” Her shoulders relaxed a little and she stepped forward. “You look better.” 

“Thanks.” He tried to smile. 

“Come on,” she gestured for him to follow her. “Let’s go to the mess hall, I’m starving.” 

“Are you hurt?” He let her get a few steps ahead of him so he could watch her move. Very little of her skin was exposed, but she was using both arms normally and he couldn’t detect a hitch in her step. 

Unlike himself. He quickened his pace and tried harder to hide his limp. He’d ditched the cane a few days ago, but no matter how hard he worked at physical therapy, his strides remained uneven. 

“No, I’m okay.” She smiled over her shoulder and slowed to match his pace. 

He ignored the way that made his stomach burn. 

She sat close to him on the bench in the mess hall, their shoulders almost touching. If anyone else did that, he reflected, he would’ve felt uncomfortable, and edged himself away. But he didn’t, because it was her. 

He listened as she told him about her mission with the pathfinders, laughing all over again at their idiosyncrasies, inside jokes, and the games they played on transport. Her words were sometimes muffled, as she spoke between shoveling rehydrated moof meat stroganoff into her mouth, but he didn’t ask her to stop or slow down. 

Jyn always ate like it was her last meal, and after so many years of food insecurity, Cassian never mentioned it. She deserved to eat as much as she wanted, however she wanted. 

“Hey.” 

He blinked and came back to the present, where she was waving her fork over his bowl of noodles and stew. 

“Are you going to eat that?”

“Of course.” He picked up a forkful of food and tried to pretend he was enjoying it, although if he was honest with himself, he wasn’t that hungry. He never seemed to be, these days.

Jyn suddenly reached up and palmed his shoulder and upper back. He closed is eyes and held his breath to keep from leaning into her touch. Her hand felt so solid against his skin and warm, even through the layers of his jacket. 

“You feel skinny,” she said. “Have you been eating enough?”

“Yes,” he said automatically.

She looked doubtful.

“I don’t need to eat that much,” he said. “When I’m not expending that much energy.”

She chewed her lip, but eventually seemed to let it go, although he thought he saw her watching his plate more closely. 

Of course, she didn’t need to worry. He was telling the truth when he said he didn’t need as much food as he used to. What was the point of calories he wasn’t going to burn sitting in comms, or data analysis, or mission prep? 

But as he undressed that night it was still on his mind, and he noticed that his trousers were looser than before, and he’d started wearing his belt tighter. 

He shook his head and crawled into bed. He was fine. Jyn was worrying over nothing. 

 

He followed her to the training room the next day, because she invited him and he had no capacity to resist her anymore. He hadn’t been there since before his last mission, the last time he felt anywhere close to fighting fit.

She seemed to notice his hesitation as they stepped inside. “We don’t have to do anything really intense,” she said. “I just thought it’d be good for you to move a little.”

Force, she’s too good for him. He’s not worth all the thought she gives him. “I… that would be good.” 

He put down his bag and sat to take off his shoes, then joined Jyn on the mat. 

They started by stretching, spending more time on it than he used to. He was sweating before they were halfway through, but it felt good to have blood moving through his muscles again, his heart rate up. He felt more alive than he had in weeks, and was hyperaware of her next to him. 

He had to consciously keep himself from staring– at the curls in the short hair by her temples, the way her sleeveless top showed off the muscles in her arms. Even when he looked away he found himself fixated on the way she let out her breath to deepen each stretch. 

When they were done she stepped back and shook herself out. “So,” she said. “What do you want to do?”

He caught his breath and spoke without thinking. “Maybe a bit of sparring?” 

He couldn’t help it. Ever since Jedha, he’d been fascinated by the way she fought. It was something he could watch for days if she wasn’t in danger, and one of his favorite things to do with her… before. 

She looked doubtful. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“Of course.” He felt good today, stronger than before. More alive. 

“I don’t know…”

“Don’t worry about me.” He fell into a loose stance that only tugged at his hip a little bit, almost smiling in anticipation. 

She mimicked him, but didn’t strike. “You go first.” 

He hesitated, thrown off. In the past, she’d always made the first move, been the one to set the pace. But he shook it off and swung. 

She blocked it easily and returned with a swing of her own, but slower and more obvious than he’d ever seen from her. 

He blocked and struck again, and they continued like that for a little bit, neither going down or moving much. Frustration burned in his stomach as he realized she was going easy on him. More than easy, like she was afraid to touch him. He tried to push her, tried to show her he was ready, but she would always fall back on the defensive, refusing to escalate. 

He threw off her latest jab and stepped back, panting and angry. “You’re being gentle with me.”

She set her jaw. “Cassian–”

“I’m not going to break.”

He didn’t miss the way her eyes skimmed down his torso, and it was only years of training that kept his face from burning. She pressed her lips together and was silent, but he could hear what she wasn’t saying. 

_You’re already broken_. 

“Come on.” He stepped forward again. “Let’s fight for real. Like we used to.”

This time, she spoke. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I’ll be fine.” He planted his feet, suddenly desperate for a return to something like the way things were before, a reassurance that he was still the same. “Please.” 

Her brows pinched together she seemed to give in. “If you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure.”

She struck first this time, so fast he barely avoided the blow, but soon the adrenaline started racing and he felt himself focus, get into the rhythm of fighting he missed so much. For a few minutes, it was like a high and he felt exhilarated, revitalized, and athletic again. 

Then he found himself tiring, far more quickly than he used to, and noticed how every jab, every punch seemed to hurt more, go straight to his bones through all the muscle he’d lost. 

He was slower, clumsier, not as alert, and it wasn’t long before he made a mistake. He missed a blow she’d clearly meant for him to block, and she didn’t have time to pull back before it left him flat on his back. 

He couldn’t suppress a cry of pain as he went down, and bit his tongue as all the bones in his spine seemed to shake. 

“Oh, Force.” Jyn dropped to her knees beside him, fear and concern all over her face. “I’m so sorry. Fuck, I’m so sorry. That was an accident, I didn’t mean– Are you okay?” Her hands were all over him, checking the integrity of his ribs, his shoulders, his hips. 

He growled and pushed them away, pulling himself to standing as quickly as he could bear, gritting his teeth through the pain. “I’m fine.” 

She shook her head and backed away. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea.” To his horror, she turned and stepped off the mat, then began digging through her bag for fresh clothes. “I should go.”

“Jyn–”

She ran a cloth over her face, then ducked away so he couldn’t see. When she spoke, her voice sounded thin and strained. “I’m so sorry, Cassian.”

Then she was gone, and he felt all that vitality draining out of him, leaving him hollow and and empty again. 

 

He skipped dinner that night, even though Kay informed him it was counter-intuitive if he wanted to regain his strength. Cassian ignored him. It was just so hard to see the point, when it was clear he’d never come close to where he was before, no matter what he did. 

So he laid on his bed in the dark, on top of the covers and still in his clothes, wondering when it became so difficult to get through the day without mentally collapsing in on himself. 

His head barely twitched when the door opened, and part of him was ashamed of that. For not snapping to attention he’d been trained to do, blaster in hand and ready to defend himself. He’d been out of the field too long. Or perhaps he just didn’t care anymore. 

He turned when he heard them step inside, because the steps didn’t sound familiar. Not clanking and creaking like Kay’s, or heavy and firm like Jyn’s. 

Cassian wasn’t sure why he was so surprised to see Chirrut walking across the room, robes whispering over the floor and a meal container in his hands. But he came out of his stupor somewhat and pushed himself to sitting even though realistically, it would make no difference to Chirrut. 

“Baze thought you might be hungry.” He placed the food on the nightstand and opened the lid. 

“Thank you.” Cassian wasn’t, really, even at the smell of nuna curry wafting over the bed. He leaned against the wall and waited for Chirrut to leave. 

But instead he pulled out the desk chair and produced two knitting needles from the folds of his robes. He held up the length of woven yarn already over 60 centimeters long for Cassian to see. 

“Baze chooses the colors for me,” he said. “Although sometimes I wonder about his taste.”

Cassian didn’t comment, although he noticed Baze seemed to favor earth tones, and with the random pattern Chirrut had chosen, the scarf almost looked camouflage. 

“May I ask you a question?” Chirrut said. 

“Of course.” If it was conversation he wanted, Cassian could humor him at the very least. 

“Do you pity me?”

“What?” Cassian sat up straight. “Of course not.” 

“You know, Baze did, at one time.”

“Well, that’s–”

“We were very young,” Chirrut said. “During some of our earliest years at the temple. He couldn’t believe I couldn’t see the color red, or the sun setting behind the city.”

He paused, but Cassian pressed his teeth together, unsure of where this was going and afraid to interrupt again. 

“One year, a Jedi knight stayed in the temple with us, on a pilgrimage to the city’s holy sites. Baze was very excited. He thought the knight could use the Force to restore my sight.”

_Is that even–_

“Impossible, of course.” Chirrut sighed, needles clicking together as he wove the camouflage scarf. “And I was very angry with him.”

“Because he pitied you?” Cassian said. 

“Because he sought to control what he couldn’t. And carried the responsibility when he failed.” 

Cassian swallowed. 

“Jyn will come to understand.”

Wrapped up in Chirrut’s story, Cassian’s heart jumped to attention at Jyn’s name and refused to slow when he scolded it. 

“With time, of course. It is not for you to explain” Chirrut tucked away his needles and yarn and stood. “Have faith, Captain. The Force has not meant for you to be apart.”

He left without another word, and Cassian stared after him, more confused than ever. 

Then his stomach rumbled and he picked up the container of curry, eating it like a starving man. 

 

* * *

 

He didn’t see Jyn for several days after that, but made an effort not to fixate on it. For the first time, he found himself making a point to care for himself. He went to every physical therapy appointment, on time and for the entire duration. He followed every direction without a word of complaint, and put the force of his intentions behind every exercise. 

_This_ will  _make me stronger,_  he thought.  _And it_ will _be worth it._

He made sure to eat three meals a day, and tried not to spend that time alone. It almost surprised him, although it shouldn’t’ve, that he always seemed to have many tables to choose from, and he sat alternately with Bodhi, Baze and Chirrut, Shara Bey, and Melshi. It surprised him even more that his relationships with all of them were more or less the same as they always were. 

It was strangely affirming. He  _felt_  different, in every sense of the word, but it was comforting to know that in many ways he hadn’t changed. 

He started working in the hangar again, on ships like the ones he used to fly, for other intelligence missions. He knew exactly what needed to be checked, and exactly how they should be configured for that type of operation.  

It made him feel useful again, and he even found himself smiling one morning, tightening the wires under a U-wing scheduled to fly out to Nar Shaddaa in two weeks standard. 

He heard Jyn before he saw her, and even though his heart started to pound again and his palms began to sweat, he took a deep breath and turned to face her, braced for the wave of emotion that washed over him at the sight.

“Hey.” Try as he might, he couldn’t suppress the faint, hopeful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was too much to pretend he wasn’t overjoyed to just… see her again.

“Hey.” She looked down at her boots and he immediately missed her eyes. 

“It’s good to see you.”  _I missed you so much_. 

“You too.”

“We should…” C _atch up. Hang out. Talk._

“Yes, we should,” she agreed, even though he never finished. She finally looked up, and he tried to memorize the color of her eyes. “I wanted to apologize.”

“You don’t need to do that.” There had been too much apologizing lately. 

“Just one more time.” She took a step closer. “I’m sorry for ever making you feel less. We should be equals, Cassian. Partners.”

It was so, so difficult not to take her hand, or lean in closer and bring her in for a hug.  _Partners,_  his heart sang.  _Partners_. “Of course,” he said. “Always.”

“But even beyond that, Cassian. I care about you so much and sometimes… sometimes I want…” She trailed off. 

“What do you want?” If it was in his power, he would give her anything. 

“I want…” She leaned forward, so her forehead was just below his chin.

He wanted to kiss her. He swallowed and blinked hard to push the idea away. But he didn’t lean back, or move his eyes from hers. 

“I–” She tried to start again but then her lips were on his and all thoughts of words were forgotten.

Looking back on it, he’d never be able to say who leaned in first, which one of them finally took the leap, but he was so, so glad someone did. 

He would never forget the way this felt, pressed up against her with no space between them, the way her hair smelled as it fell over her face, and the way his arms could cross behind her back and wrap around her shoulders. 

_The Force had not meant for them to be apart._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Original Tumblr Post](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/post/183850279800/rebelcaptain-prompt-misunderstandings-or-jealousy)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! I'm still [cats-and-metersticks](https://cats-and-metersticks.tumblr.com/) on tumblr
> 
>  
> 
> Ending Credits:  
> "Lovely"- Billie Eilish & Khalid  
> "The Hunt"- Youth Lagoon  
> "Samson"- Regina Spektor


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